McGee, PI
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: AU fic in which Tim, a 1920's P.I., accepts a case from a sultry woman. Written for the NFA Community's The Road Less Travelled Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a slow day. Well, it had been a slow week. Okay, okay, it had been a slow _month_. Crime was down. That may sound like a dream come true for a politician, but for a Private Investigator such as myself, it was bad news. If no one needed crimes solved, I didn't get paid.

I hated when I didn't get paid.

I sat back in my chair, propping my feet up on my desk, as I read the daily paper. These days, though, I could recite the stories in my sleep. Talkies were invading movie theaters. Women's rising hemlines were shocking the nation. Hoover was in the White House and he predicted smooth sailing for the rest of the 1920's. I hoped he would be right. I needed some smooth sailing right about now.

"McGee, we've got a client."

I looked up, unsure if Abby was on the level or not. Abby had been my receptionist since the incarnation of my business. She was quick witted and had a biting sense of humor, both of which I liked in a receptionist. However, it made it hard to tell when she was being serious and when she was pulling my leg for a laugh.

"Who is it?" I asked, removing my feet from their place atop my desk. If we really did have a client, I hoped to appear as professional as possible.

"My name is Ziva David," said a sultry voice.

The woman who appeared in the doorway was what many men would consider an exotic beauty. She had slim legs which disappeared beneath a dark green skirt. Her dress clung to her frame, though the top dipped down a bit more than most necklines did. Her beautiful brunette hair was long—not like the bobbed hairstyles of the so-called modern women you might see walking about nowadays—though it was pulled back into an elegant bun. Her deep, brown eyes peeked out beneath the veil of her hat. She was a knockout in every sense of the word.

"Mrs. David," I greeted as I led her to the chair across from my desk. "How can I help you?"

"It's Miss," she corrected as she sat. She pulled out a cigarette case and extracted one. She placed it between her red-painted lips and looked at me expectantly.

"Allow me," I said as I struck a match. I held it against the cigarette, watching the tip light up and began to smolder.

She sucked in the cigarette and then removed it, exhaling a long stream of smoke. "Thank you."

While I was enjoying the company of this woman, I was eager to get to the job. "Now, Miss David, what can I do for you?"

She took another long drag on the cigarette before saying, "I have reason to believe that someone is trying to kill me."

"Kill you?" I repeated. Who would want to kill this beautiful woman? "Why do you think that?"

She opened her handbag and removed a folded piece of paper. "I found this," she said, handing the paper over to me, "in my dressing room."

I unfolded the paper and saw what she meant. Scrawled in messy writing was _Watch your back. Your time is running out. _

I looked up at her. "Do you have any idea who may have written this?"

"No," she said. "I was not aware that I had made any enemies."

"You said it was in your dressing room?"

"I am a singer at the Lily Pad. It was in my backstage dressing area when I finished my set."

The Lily Pad was a club located in a bad area of town. I didn't frequent it, but I knew enough about it to stay away when possible. The owner—a broad by the name of Jenny Shepherd—claimed they were dry, but anyone with a brain knew they were bootlegging to their customers. The cops were always trying to bust them, but Shepherd always stayed one step ahead. Word on the street was that she had a hold on Captain Gibbs', and I mean that in both figuratively and sexually.

"I want to hire you, McGee," Ziva said. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs tantalizingly. "I want you to find out who wants me out of the picture."

It was my first real job in weeks and I was ready to pounce. However, I didn't want to seem desperate. "My fee runs a bit steep," I warned. It wasn't a lie, but at this point I was willing to knock off a few dollars.

"Money is not an issue. After all, you cannot put a price on your life."

I leaned back in my chair, resting my chin upon my clasped hands. "I suppose I could take the case," I said slowly. "Nothing else has come along that is quite so imminent."

She breathed a soft sigh of relief, placing a hand over her chest. "You do not know how much a weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

"Don't rest easy yet," I warned, "I still haven't found the person." I stood and walked around to the other side of my desk, sitting back against it. "Now, you haven't given me any leads, so I don't have a place to start."

"The club," she suggested. "It's really the only place I go on a regular basis."

"I'll be there tonight to scope out the place."

Her ruby painted lips twitched into a smirk. "I look forward to it."

I escorted her to the door, promising to push all of my other cases to the side and get right to work on hers, and I was rewarded with a soft kiss on my cheek. Her lips pulled slowly away from my skin with a puckering sound and she looked me down with a smile. And then she left.

"She works at the Lily Pad?" Abby asked incredulously when I walked out behind Ziva.

I gave her a sharp look. "How do you know? Were you listening?"

"Of course! What receptionist doesn't?"

With a roll of my eyes, I said, "It's not a big deal. Besides, she has a case, and I need to take it."

"And the fact that she has those tiny, slim legs had nothing to do with it?"

"I'm not like that, Abby."

"Mm-hm," she said in a tone that indicated she didn't believe me. "Here," she added as she handed me a handkerchief.

I took it, and looked at her with a furrowed brow. "What? For the lipstick smudge on my cheek?"

She grinned cheekily. "No, for the drool on your chin."

* * *

**AN:** Yes! I finally combined two of my favorite things intow one story: NCIS and early 20th Century history! Now I just need to figure out a way to have our NCIS characters in a WWII setting and I'm golden!

This is already written. As per usual, one chapter per day!


	2. Chapter 2

I slipped through the door of The Lily Pad that night, giving the rather beefy guard outside a nod. The club was almost empty and the stage was dark. Of course, it was only 10:30pm, which was early for the local night life. I knew things weren't likely to heat up for another half-hour.

"What can I get for you, my good man?"

The bartender was a kindly older gentleman with a Scottish accent. He smiled a genuine smile as I took a seat at the bar and I couldn't help but feel that he was out of place in the club.

"Gin tonic," I told him.

The man at least had the sense to feign ignorance. "Gin? I'm afraid we don't serve alcohol at this establishment."

"Relax," I said, "I'm not here to bust anyone. I'm a private investigator and I'm working a case for a client."

"Someone I know?" the man asked as he prepared my drink.

"She's a singer here. Ziva David."

"Ziva?" he repeated. "Is she in trouble?"

I raised an eyebrow as I gauged his response. "Why do you ask?

"Why else would she have hired you?"

He had a point. "Can you think of anyone who may want to hurt her?"

"Hurt her? Heavens, no! She is a very private person and I can't think of anyone she may have rubbed the wrong way."

"No jealous rivals? Maybe someone who wants her job?"

"Miss Shepherd has made it clear that Ziva is her star and she is very protective of the young woman." He leaned in, and gestured for me to do the same, whispering, "Anyone with common sense would know not to cross Miss Shepherd. She is not one to easily let go of a grudge."

I wanted to delve further, but another couple joined us at the bar. I didn't want to discuss the case with other people in ear shot. I extracted a card from my pocket and handed it to the bartender along with payment for my drink. "If you have anything more to tell me, just give me a ring."

"I most certainly will, Mr. McGee. And if you have any questions just call and ask for Ducky."

"Ducky?" I repeated with a bemused smile. "I will certainly do that."

I made my way to a table situated directly in front of the stage. I figured it was a good place to scope out any suspicious activity. Well, that and I wanted the best seat in the house for Miss David's number.

The lights on the stage brightened, revealing a piano which had seen better days. A tall, slim, bespectacled young men entered the stage and sat behind the piano. His fingers gently floated across the keys as he prepared both the instrument and himself for the upcoming act. Then, he began vamping, obviously waiting for his singer to make an entrance.

The curtains along the back of the stage pulled apart to reveal her standing there. She wore a gown of luscious red which fell to the ground with a pooling of fabric. It was a sleeveless dress with a low-dipping neck line and sequins and rhinestones which glittered beneath the lights. Around her slender neck was a silver chain necklace from which hung a black onyx jewel. Her hair was down but pulled back, revealing the matching earring which dangled from her lobes. The most attractive of her accessories, though, was undoubtedly the sly, yet endearing, smirk which adorned her beautiful face.

She stepped forward, giving a nod to her accompanist, and situated herself at the foot of the stage. She was poised, but not stiff, and she acknowledged the audience with the cool, seductive demeanor of a professional.

The song was "The Man I Love." I think it was a Gershwin song, but I didn't pay enough attention to popular music to be sure. No doubt, it was a bluesy, sultry number—what some might call a "torch song"—and she sold it with every bit as much soul as Marion Harris or Ethel Waters would. I couldn't help but notice that she kept her eyes trained on me during the entire song. Or maybe that was just my own conceited wishful thinking.

Her set was a forty minute one, but the time simply flew. Her repertoire ran the gamut from blues to hot jazz, and she could transform in a snap, going from a seductive vixen to a sad crooner. She didn't stay anchored in her spot, opting to move about the stage, addressing various patrons in the audience. At one point, she hopped atop the piano, sitting with her back to the piano player. She would glance over her shoulder at him, smiling and flirting as he played and she sang. I'm embarrassed to say I was a bit jealous of the lanky young man.

It was during her final song of the set, the ever popular "I Want To Be Loved By You," that she actually came out into the audience. She made a bee-line for my table and sat on the edge of it. When she leaned in, I was treated to a peek at the olive-toned skin of her breasts.

"I wanna be loved by you, just you," she sang with a slight pout on her lips, "and nobody else but you. I wanna be loved by you alone!" There was a pause in music and her legs fanned, ending up crossed at the thighs. "Boop-boop-a-doop!"

Through the course of the song, the exotic beauty used me as a performer uses a prop. Her fingers caressed by hair and ears, trailing down the line of my jaw. I struggled to keep my skin from turning red. I also struggled to keep a certain appendage down, especially when she slid into my lap.

"I could aspire to anything higher than filled with desire to make you my own," she crooned, leaning her face into mine. Our lips were mere centimeters apart and I could feel her warm breath against my skin as she continued singing. "I wanna be loved by you…boop-boop-a-doop!" she finished as she leaned into me to seal the deal.

That's when the cops busted in.


	3. Chapter 3

"Um…are we going to jail?"

I looked at the young man who sat beside me in the paddy wagon. It took me a moment to recognize him as the club's pianist. "Don't know."

He fidgeted, his eyes darting around. "I'd like not to go to jail."

"I think we all would."

"I mean, I just don't think I'd do well in jail."

"Should have thought of that before you took the job." I didn't mean to sound cold, but it was a straightforward answer. No one could take a job at such an establishment and not expect to face the consequences.

"I had to!" he insisted. "My mom isn't doing so well…and they said there'd be no trouble with the cops. I just don't want this on my permanent record!"

Maybe it was the way his bottom lip quivered in fear. Maybe it was that I was in a good mood already, having received a private song from Miss Ziva David. Maybe, just maybe, it was that I was a sucker for a guy who was trying to make a living to support his dear old mother. Whatever it was, I took pity on—and a liking to—the young guy who sat there. "It's okay, kid," I assured him. "Without any priors, you'll likely just get a slap on the wrist."

He sharply inhaled and grabbed his wrist, obviously having taken my comment too literally. "Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous," he explained.

"Understandable."

"I was supposed to go to medical school, but then Ma got sick and I couldn't afford to leave her. Never thought I'd sink so low."

"Playing piano in a speakeasy isn't exactly the work of the devil. You're not handing out the booze." He didn't seem moved by my reassurance and I got the feeling he was going to sulk no matter what I told him. I decided to see what information I could squeeze out. "So that singer, she's something else."

"Oh, Ziva? Yeah, she's the cat's pajamas," he said with a starry-eyed look. "I've played with really hard, tough dames before, the kind of gals who give you guff if you accidentally hit the wrong note now and then. Ziva, though, can really roll with the punches and improvise when she sees I'm having a bit of trouble."

"Seems like she has no enemies."

"None that I can think of." Drat! "Though…" he trailed off.

"Though what?"

He blushed. "Well I know that some copper was hitting on her a couple weeks back. When she snubbed him, it looked like his ego took a blow."

That piqued my interest, mainly because it was my first solid lead. "You know the copper's name?"

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I just know that one week he was at the front table, and the next week he was gone."

We pulled in to the station. I knew the kid next to me wouldn't be in there long, but I'd probably be held for a bit. The police and I…well, we didn't always get along. I held my hand out to him. "Well, it was nice to meet you..."

"Jimmy," he introduced, taking my out-stretched hand. "Jimmy Palmer."

"Timothy McGee," I said. "I'm a Private Investigator, so if you're ever in a pickle, look me up."

* * *

The police Lieutenant was a wise guy by the name Anthony DiNozzo. He liked to think he was a mixture of Sherlock Holmes and Rudy Valentino; in my opinion he was more like Barney Google.

"McGee," he said as I was brought in. "Seems we meet again."

Like I said, the cops and I didn't have the best relationship, especially Lt. DiNozzo. He figured that if I was going to make a living solving crimes, I may as well join the squad. I was competition, and the police didn't like competition any more than they liked the dirt bags they busted.

I wasn't interested in joining up, though. I don't deny the cops had their uses. They were good when it came to taking down tough guys, and I liked that, seeing as fighting muscular guys wasn't my forte. The problem is that the police force didn't offer the intellectual stimulation that I need in a job. Their main concern wasn't so much about figuring things out as it was about using force to take down bad guys. They were more the brawn and I was more the brains.

"I was on a job," I explained.

"What's the job?"

"It's my business. Client confidentiality."

"Yeah, well it doesn't change the fact that you were drinking."

"Sit in The Lily Pad and not drink?" I asked incredulously. "I was trying _not_ to look like a cop. Speaking of which, what happened with the protection Captain Gibbs gave to the club? I though he and Shepherd had an agreement."

"That's a rumor," he said. Even he knew that wasn't true. "Besides, Shepherd gave him the old kiss off, so any protection he may have been offering went out the window." He sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. "Guess the club is just full of frigid broads."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that Shepherd isn't the only one working there who likes to play hard to get." Before I could enquire further, he jerked his thumb to the door, telling me, "You can get out of here, McGee. Just remember, the invitation to join the squad is still open."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I told him as I stood. "I prefer working solo."

As I walked past the gruff policeman sitting in the station lobby, my mind went back to Jimmy information about Ziva turning down the copper. Coupled with DiNozzo's commented about frigid broads, the comment made me think. Was it possible that he had tried to smooth talk Ziva and was shot down? If so, was he really the kind of guy who would resort to sending threats? No doubt Lt. DiNozzo had a large ego which he didn't like seeing get bruised and he could let his temper get the best of him sometimes, but I had a hard time imagining him threatening someone for blowing him off.

I sauntered down the dark, empty street on my way back to my apartment. I had a feeling this case was only beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

"You really think Lt. DiNozzo would off a girl because she didn't fall for his charms?" Abby asked as she and I discussed the case the following morning. "I know he's got a sensitive ego, but he doesn't strike me as the violent type."

I agreed. "Even if getting the boot _did_ anger him, he wouldn't admit it because he would want to save face. He'd laugh it off and move on to the next skirt."

My receptionist twirled one of her pigtails around her finger as she thought about the case. "Do you think Miss David knows more than she's letting on? Maybe she's involved with a married man and now the wife wants revenge."

I frowned, mostly because I didn't like the idea that Ziva was romantically involved with anyone. "If she wants me to figure this thing out, why wouldn't she give me all the facts?"

"She's ashamed of having an affair?" she suggested with a shrug.

"Nah, I didn't get that vibe from her."

"So what's your plan now?"

That was a good question. My visit to The Lily Pad, brief as it had been, hadn't turned anything up, save for a certain part of my anatomy which _had_ turned up during the beautiful woman's performance. That had been my only lead in the case, and now I was left with nothing. "I guess I'll visit Miss David's place of residence, see how she's faring after last night's raid. I may as well ask about the cop she turned down a couple weeks back."

Before I could even get my trench on, the phone on Abby's desk came to life with a shrill ring. After she answered it, she handed it over to me. "It's some guy named Ducky."

I quickly snatched up the receiver and gave him a breathless greeting. "Do you have information for me?"

"I have something that might be pertinent to your case," he explained in a very hushed tone, "but I can't talk to you about it right now."

"When can you meet with me?"

"Will you be available this afternoon?"

"I can be. Where do you want to meet?"

"You can swing by my flat."

I took down the address. "I'll be there at one," I promised before replacing the phone in its cradle.

"New development?" Abby asked in interest.

"Could be." I grabbed my coat, telling her, "Hold down the fort until I get back."

* * *

"I am pleased to see that you were released unscathed," Ziva told me as I sat down at the table. She was dressed in a silky robe, her hair still set in curls, and was brewing a pot of coffee. "I feared you would be charged when you were only there because of my case."

"The cops and I have an understanding," I explained as I stared at the robe which was wrapped about her slim body. I wondered what delicate nightwear she donned beneath the cover. "I hope you were not detained there."

"I have my ways of getting out of such situations," she told me with a sly smile.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "That actually brings me to one of my questions. Your young pianist and I were sitting beside each other last night on the way to the station, and he informed me that you were being pursued by a young police officer, but turned him down."

"And you are wondering if my turning down Mr. DiNozzo has anything to do with the note I found in my dressing room," she concluded.

"So it _was_ DiNozzo," I commented with more than a little satisfaction.

"Yes, it was, but I do not think he is the one who left the note."

"That makes two of us."

"I am glad that we are in agreement."

"I must admit, though, that I have hit something of a brick wall in the investigation. Nothing so far has turned up a solid lead."

"I am beginning to wonder if the note was meant for someone else," she joked, though her face still looked grim.

She placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. I took it and sipped at it as I considered what we knew. In a moment of deep thinking, my eyes caught sight of a framed picture which sat atop Ziva's end table. It was a picture of a young man and woman standing side by side with grins. The woman in the picture was very obviously Ziva; the man, too, was recognizable.

"Is this who I think it is?" I asked as I stood. Without asking, I snatched the picture up and looked in near shock. I had seen this man's picture on Wanted posters all across the city. "This is Ari Haswari, isn't it?"

Her silence said it all.

"Were you two…involved?" I asked hesitantly. The picture was clearly from an earlier time in both of their lives, before Haswari had become an infamous gangster. Theft, kidnapping, blackmail, murder…all of these were charges attributed to his long-standing career.

"No," she said as she shook her head sadly, "nothing like that. He is my half-brother."

I was flabbergasted. "You're related to Haswari?"

She nodded abashedly. "It is not something I like to admit openly." Couldn't say I blamed her. "But he…he is far different than people know. At least, he _used_ to be."

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Because I did not think it had anything to do with this case."

"How could you think this wasn't important? You're related to one of the most infamous gangsters of our time!" I didn't mean to shout, but I was still getting over the shock of this new revelation. I'm sure Ziva had her reasons for not wanting to spread this information around, but I was counting on her honesty to find this psycho before she got hurt. "Anything else you've been keeping from me?"

"No," she said softly. "I have nothing else."

"Have you been in touch with your half-brother recently?"

She looked up at me with sorrowful eyes and shook her head. "No one in my family has heard from Ari since he pulled that bank heist in '25."

"Well, maybe this has nothing to do with him, but I have to keep it open as a possibility."

Ziva ducked her head down. "I understand."

I finished off my coffee quickly and Ziva informed me that she had to be at the club in an hour to rehearse. It was just as well that I left, as it was almost time for me to meet with Ducky. We said our good-byes and agreed to meet the following day.

As I walked down the crowded street to the bartender's apartment, I mulled over the new information I had gained. Ziva was related to a man wanted by the police, and that opened up an entire door of possibilities. Did the authorities know of her relation to Haswari? Captain Gibbs had been on the gangster's trail for years and I knew he would stop at nothing to find the man. Or maybe one of Haswari's rivals had found the half-sister and hoped to threaten her to gain leverage over him. I shudder to even consider that.

I reached the address given to me by Ducky and knocked at the door of his place. I waited a minute for him to open the door, but no one did. Beneath the door, I could see that the lights were on and I could hear the soft tunes of music wafting from within, so I had a feeling the apartment wasn't empty. I knocked again, just in case he hadn't heard the first knock. "Ducky? It's me!"

There was still no answer.

I reached down and grabbed the knob. The door was unlocked and I tentatively pushed it open, revealing a trashed apartment. Papers were strewn across the floor, furniture was overturned, and dishes were broken. A phonograph sat atop a small table, playing a record of some opera that I didn't recognize. I instinctively grabbed my gun and held it in my hand as I tiptoed through the flat. "Ducky?"

I heard a low groan come from what appeared to be the bedroom and I hastened to the sound. There, on the floor of his bedroom, was the bartender I had met the previous night. He was lying on his back, his glasses lying broken beside him. Luckily, he was moving, and, aside from the ugly welt on his head, there didn't appear to be any other injuries.

"Ducky!" I called as I fell to my knees beside him. "Ducky, are you okay?"

He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, likely trying to focus. After a few seconds of this, he asked, "Who are you?"

"It's McGee. We met last night and you told me to come here."

"I did? Why?"

"You said you had information about the threatening note Ziva got."

"Who is Ziva?"

"She works with you at The Lily Pad."

"What's The Lily Pad?"

I sat him up before running to call for an ambulance. My mouth was pulled into a grim frown. I knew this attack hadn't been a coincidence. It seemed someone had gotten to the man before he could speak with me and had given him a hard enough blow that he wouldn't be able to tell me anything worth while.

Someone was going to great lengths to make sure I didn't solve this case, and I wanted to know who it was.


	5. Chapter 5

I paced back and forth in the waiting area of the hospital. Ducky had been brought in almost a half hour earlier and I had followed behind. I couldn't let the poor man sit alone in a hospital, especially when he didn't know who he was.

"Are you the one who came in with Mr. Mallard?"

I spun around to see a doctor standing in the doorway. "Who?"

"The head trauma victim," he said, referring to the chart on his clipboard. "Mr. Donald Mallard."

It struck me that I didn't even know Ducky's real name. With a last name like Mallard, a nickname like "Ducky" seemed about right. "Yes, I came in with him. How is he doing?"

"He suffered a nasty blow to his head, but he should recover."

"He didn't seem to know who he was when I tried speaking to him."

The doctor nodded. "Amnesia is not uncommon in cases like this."

"Is it permanent?"

"Hard to say. Some people get their memory back quickly, for some it takes longer, and some people never get their memory back."

I fell into the chair behind me, resting my head in my hands. Whatever Ducky wanted to tell me, I likely wouldn't know now. Worse, an innocent bystander had gotten hurt because of my investigation. "Is he stable enough to return home?"

"Certainly, though he'll want to keep a cold compress on the wound on and off for a couple of days."

He led me to a room where Ducky was sitting, still looking flustered and confused. "Ducky," I called. He looked up. "Hey, I'm going to take you home."

"And you're…McGee…" he said.

"You remember me?" I asked hopefully.

"You were standing over me when I woke up…weren't you?"

My sudden hopes were quickly dashed. He only remembered me as the man who had helped him, not as a P.I. investigating a threat against his colleague. "Yes," I told him as I helped him up, "that was me."

The doctor handed me a clipboard. "If you'll just sign these forms, you two gentleman may be on your way."

* * *

I splurged on a cab back to Ducky's place. He wasn't in any condition to walk. During the ride, I told him as much as I knew about his life, though that wasn't much. I also attempted to jog his memory. "You said you had something that might be pertinent to the case."

"The case about…about Lisa?"

"Ziva," I corrected. "She works with you."

"At The Lily Pad."

"That's right. She's a singer and you're a bartender. Someone left her a threatening note."

"They did? Why?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

I didn't get very far with his memory. He could hardly remember his name, let alone the case I was working on. When we arrived at his apartment, I helped him up the stairs and got him settled in with a cold compress and some music. I didn't want to leave him alone, but I couldn't play baby-sitter all day. Spying a phone, I decided to take a chance.

"Hello?"

I breathed a sigh of relief when Ziva answered the phone. "Ziva, I need you to come over to Ducky's flat."

"Ducky's? Why?"

"Someone attacked him."

Her gasp was audible over the phone. "But…but why?"

"No idea. He said he had something to tell me, so I can only imagine someone doesn't want me solving this case." I peeked in to the living area where Ducky was still sitting, holding the compress firmly against his wound. "He doesn't remember who he is or anything. He needs someone who knows him better than I do to tend to him."

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I will be over shortly."

I hung up the phone and returned to Ducky. "Ziva is coming over to look after you for a bit."

"Ziva…she's the one in trouble."

"That's right. She knows you better than I do, so she can probably tell you a bit more about…well…_you_."

* * *

Ziva arrived shortly. She wore little make-up and her hair was in disarray; I had a feeling she had gotten dressed as quickly as possible and rushed over. I was thankful she had, as Ducky and I had spent the time sitting in silence while _Madame Butterfly_ played in the background.

"How is he doing?" she asked breathlessly as she entered.

"Pretty good considering someone took a whack at his head."

Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and guilt. "And it is because of me," she said.

"Don't go blaming yourself," I told her firmly. "You had a problem, you came to me, and I investigated."

"Yes, but–"

"No 'buts,'" I insisted, placing a finger over her lips to quiet her protests. "You did what any person would do. Unless you're the one who struck him on the head, you've got no reason to feel guilty."

She bit her lip and nodded in agreement. I felt bad for being so harsh. I knew, after all, how hard it was _not _to feel guilty in such a situation. Still, I didn't want her to worry for even a moment that her actions had caused this.

I led her into the living area. "Ducky, this is Ziva," I introduced.

She sat beside him and pulled him into a tight embrace. I heard her whisper something to him, but it was so inaudible that I couldn't clearly hear it. Besides which, my attention was immediately drawn to the rather large bruise on her upper arm. I knew for a fact that the bruise hadn't been there the previous night. I tried to remember if I had seen the bruise on her arm earlier this morning, but then remembered that she had been wearing a long-sleeved robe. Had the cops done that?

"Did you get roughed up last night?" I asked, pointing to the wound.

She looked down at the bruise, her cheeks slightly red. "I accidentally slammed into a wall," she said nonchalantly. "It is not a big deal."

I had a feeling there was more to the story than that, but I didn't press the issue. For all I knew, she really _had_ just run into a wall...though that wasn't likely.

I turned my attention back to Ducky. "She'll help you for the time being."

"Yes," she agreed. "I can help you in any way. I will also let Jenny know that you will not be at work tonight, though it is likely for the best seeing as we will have to stop serving alcohol for a week or so to keep the cops out."

"I have to go," I told Ducky, "but if you remember anything—no matter how unimportant you think it is—you let me know."

I bade them both good-bye and left. It was a long way back to the office, but I was happy to walk. It gave me time to think, and I had a lot to think about with this case. Who would want to kill the beautiful club singer? What had Ducky known? Who had gone after him? Most importantly, who else would get hurt before I solved this case?


	6. Chapter 6

I pushed through the doors into my office building, my mind still wrapped around the case. So absorbed was I in my own thoughts that I didn't notice Abby standing at the door to my office with a grim look on her face.

"Hold my calls," I muttered.

"You'd rather not go in there."

"And why is that?" I asked as I pushed open the door. There I found my answer. Seated behind my desk like he owned the place was Captain Gibbs; seated _atop_ my desk was Lt. DiNozzo. An appearance by either was never a good sign; an appearance by both…well, I can think of better situations.

"Hey, McGee," DiNozzo greeted chummily. His demeanor was anything but. "We've been waiting for almost an hour. Where ya been?"

"I wasn't aware we had an appointment," I told him with a pointed look. "Get the hell off my desk."

DiNozzo held up his hands in defense as he slid off. "No need to get snippety!"

I ignored him and focused on the far more pleasant of the two men (and if you knew Gibbs, you knew that was saying something). "Anything I can help you men with?"

They both bristled slightly at my question, leading me to assume there was. The cops didn't like when they had to rely on outsiders for help. I took a moment to drink it in, though I reminded myself not to let my enjoyment of their discomfort register on my face.

"Why are you working a case for Ziva David?" DiNozzo asked.

"How do you know what cases I'm working?"

"I know you think we're bumbling idiots, McGee, but we've got out insider sources." That comment came from Gibbs who relinquished my chair and took a place on the other side of the desk. "We know you're doing something for David and we want to know what."

"Like I told your Lt. last night, that's confidential information," I replied coolly as I slipped into my seat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Gibbs was not so easily shut out. "Were you aware that David is the sister of notorious gangster Ari Haswari?"

"Half-sister," I corrected, answering his question at the same time. "What of it?"

"I think you know how I feel about that scumbag."

Everyone on the east coast knew how Gibbs felt about Haswari. One of his officers had been killed by the gangster months earlier. The officer—a fellow by the name of Todd—hadn't even been on duty at the time; Haswari had simply wanted to send a message. He broke into the officer's apartment and shot him as he slept. Along with the body, Haswari left a note confessing to the crime and taunting Gibbs to find him. The police Captain had been obsessed with catching him ever since.

"I don't know where he is, if that's what you're getting at."

"_You_ don't," DiNozzo said, "but we think _she_ does." He sauntered around to the other end of my desk and leveled me with a look. "Trouble is, David isn't in the mood to cooperate with officials."

"She probably doesn't know either."

"Oh, she knows," he said with great conviction. "And even if she doesn't, she knows how to pull him out of wherever he's hiding. I asked her to help us out—some undercover work, you know?" He grimaced and added, "She blew me off."

It struck me. "So you weren't trying to make a pass at her?"

DiNozzo's face was a mask of shock. While he may have had a degree in BS, I knew even he couldn't fake that much surprise. "Make a pass?" he asked. "No! The only reason we raided the club last night was to give us a reason to talk to her without arousing suspicion from anyone who might be watching her. She still didn't budge."

I leaned back and mulled over the latest facts. The cops were hounding Ziva to bring her half-brother out of hiding. She was obviously resistant to the idea for whatever reason, be it because she didn't want to or because she truly did not know where he was. So how did this tie in with the threatening note? Or did the two have nothing to do with each other?

Gibbs placed his hands on my desk and tilted forward. "We can help each other," he said. "Now what is your case about?"

"A note she found two nights ago," I told him after thinking it over for a moment. Reticent as I was to involve them in my work, they seemed to have the biggest lead for my case so far. "Someone made a threat to kill her."

"Any leads?"

"None so far…though I'm beginning to think Haswari is the answer or, at the very least, the missing puzzle piece."

"Maybe he wants to kill her before she squeals to us."

I shot DiNozzo a sour look. "She hasn't cooperated with you yet, so why should he think she will? Besides, He's had two days; when Haswari wants you dead, he doesn't leave you time to stew."

"Well, then maybe the family of one of his victims is seeking revenge by killing his sister."

"Half-sister," I reminded him. The scenario, though, was a plausible one, though not without its questions. "How would they know he would be affected by it? For that matter, how would they even know she was his half-sister?"

"Census bureau," DiNozzo said. "Same way we found out."

He had a point, though I was reluctant to admit it.

"So how do I factor into all of this? Do you think she's going to tell me any more than she's already told you?"

"We figured that as long as you were investigating a case for her, you could…investigate _her_. Follow her, see where she goes and who she talks to. If you notice a pattern, let us know," Gibbs said.

I wanted to tell them both to shove it, but something stopped me. It wasn't that they were both cops and could have me in the slammer faster than you could say Jack Robinson; I just felt like this would be an easy task for me to do and maybe earn some bonus points with them. As much as I didn't want to work for them, I didn't want to burn too many bridges between us either.

"Okay," I agreed, "but on one condition."

They exchanged looks. "What's that?" Gibbs asked.

"If I prove that Ziva doesn't know where Haswari is, you will stop harassing her."

I noticed DiNozzo lift a suggestive eyebrow at my use of her first name. He didn't say anything verbally, though his expression said it all. "Fine with us, McGee."

They turned to go, but another though popped into my mind and made me stop them. "Did you or any of your officers rough her up last night?"

"Us? Rough up a dame?" Tony laughed. "Not on your life! That would be bad publicity for the squad."

I believed them and bade them good-bye.

"A visit from the coppers themselves," Abby commented as she stood in the doorway. "You must have really ticked off somebody."

I picked up the note Ziva had given me on that first day she came in. "Yeah, well when I find out who's behind all this, they're going to be ticked off even more."


	7. Chapter 7

I returned to The Lily Pad that night, both for the case and to see Ziva again. Everything was as it had been the evening before, except there were far fewer people and no alcohol was served. The former may have been a result of the latter.

I slipped into the same seat, wanting another front row seat for her performance. I was a little late and she had already entered the stage, ready to sing her heart out. This time her gown was green with a high neck line. It fell low in the back, all the way down to her waist line, offering a glimpse of her luscious skin. She nodded to Jimmy who began a soulful tune. When she looked out into the audience, I could see a glimmer sadness in her eyes. Her sorrow tonight wasn't an act; it was very much real.

When I wasn't busy ogling the saucy songstress, I tried to stealthily sneak glances about the club and see if anyone looked suspicious. Problem was the establishment drew in so many seedy characters that it was hard to tell what qualified as suspicious. Aside from me and a younger man working behind the currently alcohol-free bar, there was a young couple, three girl who had probably just gotten off work chatting excitedly to each other about who was seeing whom, a couple of guys who had obviously gotten drunk elsewhere before coming here, an older, bickering couple, and a guy sitting at the far back table by himself. The solo guy struck a match and lit his cigar, watching Ziva with keen eyes.

I decided to make a move.

"She's got quite a voice," I commented as I slid into the seat beside him. The look he gave me made it clear that my company was not welcome, but I didn't let it faze me. "I missed when they announced her name. You know it?"

"What's it matter?"

"Just wanted to know who I was having the pleasure of hearing tonight."

"Look, buddy, I ain't in no mood for talking, so why don't you just skedaddle?"

"I was just making conversation."

"Don't need your conversation."

"So I take it you don't know the lady's name?"

"It's nothing you need to know," he growled, nearing the end of his rope. "Trust me, she ain't the kind of dame you want to get involved with anyway."

"And why is that?"

"Cause you could step out on the town with her and suddenly find yourself with two broken kneecaps."

I couldn't be sure if his statement was a warning or a threat; likely it was both.

"She some gangster's girl or something?"

"I'll go with 'or something.' Now hows about you be a good little boy and scram? You're too sickeningly pure for a place like this."

I could see he was stonewalling me. If he was somehow involved with this messy situation, he'd obviously been well-trained enough not to talk; if he was just some jerk who didn't know any more about the mysterious note than I did, well then I was just wasting my time, wasn't I? "Too bad she's such a health risk," I commented as I rose from my seat. "I can see her making some guy a very lucky fellow."

My snide companion snorted, but said nothing.

After the set was over for the night, Ziva exited backstage. I made to follow her, but was stopped at the door by a beefy guard whose jowls hung beneath his chin like those of a bloodhound. He reeked of bad odor and didn't look like the kind of person who had much patience.

"McGee," I told him, pulling out my identification, "P.I. I need to speak with Miss David about a case."

His hand fell onto my shoulder in a tight grip as he pushed me back against the wall. "No one allowed back," he snarled. "Not unless they work here or have special permission from Ms. Shepherd."

"Miss David knows me," I protested.

"No one allowed back," he repeated like a broken record.

As I stood there in his suffocating grip, my mind went back to the first day Ziva had entered my office. She had told me the note had been found in her dressing room. If this man had been watching the backstage door the way he was right now, could anyone have gotten back there…unless they were an employee?

"Then let me ask you," I suggested. "Were you guarding this door two nights ago?"

He grunted with a curt nod. I took it to mean "yes."

"Did you allow anyone who wasn't an employee back there?"

"No one allowed back," he said once again in the same tone. I was beginning to suspect this man wasn't the smartest cookie in the box.

"So only employees were back there? No one suspicious went through?"

He grunted once again, shaking his head no.

"All I needed to know." I tipped my hat to the man and walked out. I doubled around, hoping to catch Ziva at the back door. This new bit of information could narrow down the suspect list a bit.

Before I had even made it half-way there, I heard her voice floating from the alley way. I stopped short and crept the rest of the way. Peeking around the corner, I saw Ziva standing there with the guy I'd been talking to in the club. She didn't look particularly happy to see him.

"I told him, I do not want to see him," she said firmly. "I do not want to be associated with him at all!"

The man snuffed out his cigar. "You know he don't like hearing that."

"Too bad."

"Maybe you've forgotten what we did to your little friend…maybe we'll find more little friends and this time maybe we won't go so easy on 'em."

I saw her mouth tighten as he face grew red. "You did not need to harm him," she said in a low growl.

"We didn't hurt him much."

"He was in the hospital! He does not even know who he is!" she spat out.

Hospital? Could she have been talking about Ducky?

"He's alive, ain't he?" the guy commented, nonplussed by Ziva's increasing anger. He gave her cheek a pat. "Now you be a good girl and maybe he'll stay that way."

She lunged at him with a strangled cry, obviously intending to maim him. She got in a couple of good blows before he overpowered her. He roughly grabbed her arms and pushed her against the wall with a hard thud. I wanted to jump out and rescue her from the brute, but something held me back. I had a feeling that if I showed myself, all chance of solving this case would go out the window.

"Listen here, sweet cheeks, we'll have none of that!" he snarled as she glared at him. "Now either get in the car or I'll have to take out my anger on one of your friends. Like that pianist, maybe? I got a feeling he won't be playing so good with broken fingers."

"No!" she shouted, her plea echoing in the alley.

"You ready to behave?" he asked in a condescending tone.

Her eyes narrowed, but in a low, guttural tone she muttered, "Yes."

He pulled her away towards a parked automobile. They got in and the car rolled out onto the street, passing me on the way. Neither gave me a glance. It stopped at the corner to let another car go by. I took the opportunity to jump on the back. It was a tight squeeze, but I managed to situate myself on the rear bumper, my head down so he couldn't see me.

Something told me I was about to get a huge break in my case.


	8. Chapter 8

The car sped down the dark and empty streets, rarely stopping for anything. I soon noticed that we were entering a seedy, sleazy part of town. It was the kind of area a person didn't venture into without a weapon of some sort. I was thankful I'd armed myself that night.

We soon pulled up along side a dilapidated warehouse. The windows were boarded up, giving one the impression that the building was abandoned; light gleamed through one window that hadn't been fully covered, dispelling any idea that the warehouse was empty.

The lug stopped the car and got out, pulling a still reticent Ziva behind him. She didn't struggle in his grasp, but I could tell she wasn't happy to be there. He gave the door a very specific knock and it opened, allowing them in. I counted to twenty before slipping away from my hiding place and crawling to the one window not completely boarded up. There were only a few inches of window open, but I managed to squint through. Inside, guys sat around, talking with each other. They all held some sort of weapon and were all dressed in finely tailored suits. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I'd seen some of their mug shots lining the walls of the post office.

The guy entered the open area with Ziva in tow. Many of the other men turned their attention to her, some offering up cat calls and wolf whistles as she walked past. She ignored them with a cool confidence that I had come to expect from her.

"So what is this all about?" she asked the man who had brought her here. "I need to get home and sleep."

"I got an empty bed you can use, darlin'!" called a portly guy as he leered at her. He laughed, but stopped when one of the others jabbed in the ribs with his elbow.

"I do not think Ziva is going to stoop that low, Big Boy." The voice came from someone I couldn't quite see. I strained for a better view, but got none. "She has got more class than that."

Whoever was speaking was not high on Ziva's list of favorite people. She glowered at the man in question, her eyes narrowed to slits. "Why did you send your goon to abduct me?" she asked.

"Abduct?" repeated the voice in a smooth tone. "I did not ask anyone to abduct you, Ziva. I only asked that you politely drop in and see me."

"I do not wish to see you. I do not wish to hear from you ever again!"

"Are you ashamed of your own family, of your own brother?"

The man stepped into my view and, though I'd been expecting it, I was shocked nonetheless. There stood Ari Haswari, a man wanted by almost every agency in America. He was a man who'd probably killed more people than the Titanic and who had a rap sheet that could run from the east coast to the west coast and back. He was not a man you wanted to meet in a dark alley…or even in a bright alley!

"Half-brother," she spat out. "We are only half related."

"Relation is relation, Ziva."

"No," she disagreed. "We may share a father, but our similarities end there. You are a monster!"

One of the men angrily lifted his hand to strike her, but Ari reached out and stopped him. "I only wish to speak with you Ziva."

"About what? About why you sent these bastards to attack an innocent man?"

Ari paid no heed to her accusation. He sat in a chair at the head of the table much like a king sits on his throne and overlooks his kingdom. He gestured to a seat beside him, meaning for Ziva to also sit. When she stood still, two of the men grabbed her and pushed her down into the seat.

"I regret that such actions had to be taken," Ari said, though I wasn't sure if he was speaking of the attack on Ducky or his goons rough handling Ziva. "Perhaps you can tell me why you were at the police station last night?"

"There was a raid on the club," she told him through tightly-clenched teeth. "I was arrested."

I could tell he didn't believe her. "Are you sure you weren't trying to tell Captain Gibbs about my hide-out?"

"No!" she insisted. "I already told you I wouldn't!"

"And I would like to believe you. But you have been having encounters with those cops an awful lot lately. Seems to be far too often to be coincidence."

"I have not told them anything!" she insisted. "Do you not think they would have raided you by now if I had?"

Her point was logical enough and Ari nodded in agreement. "No, you have not told them…yet. But how can I be certain you won't eventually?"

"Why did you have them attack Ducky?" she asked in a soft voice.

"To send a message," he told her nonchalantly. "To remind you of the fact that I know everything that happens and if you even _think_ about double-crossing me, I will make you regret it."

She folded her arms. "Is that all? May I go now?"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Just one more thing. Who is this private eye you have been speaking to?"

"That has nothing to do with you."

"That is not my question, Ziva."

"He is investigating something for me. A threat made against me."

"And what kind of threat was that?"

"A note someone left me."

"Not one of my men."

"No, not one of yours. If you wanted me dead, I would be dead."

He nodded, not denying her comment.

"As I said, it has nothing to do with you."

"I hope not," he said. "For your sake, I hope not."

* * *

Not long after arriving at the hideout of Ari Haswari, I quickly made my way back to the better part of town. I'd heard everything I needed to hear, so I hopped on the closest bus and left. Once back in town, though, I didn't go to my apartment; I went to Ziva's instead. Picking the lock wasn't difficult and I sat waiting in the bedroom until she got in. I listened as the door opened in the living area. If someone was with her, it was better for both her and me that I not be found. My worries were in vain, though, because moments later she entered her bedroom alone.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"Thought I'd drop in and see how you were doing. Late night?"

She nervously placed her handbag on the nightstand. "You could say that. I got caught up with a few things at the club."

"Was that before or after you met up with your outlaw half-brother?"

If Ziva had been surprised at my being in her apartment at this hour, she was dead shocked when I cornered her about the meeting. "How…" she trailed off.

"I hopped a ride on the car," I told her. "So you haven't been in contact with him, huh?"

"It is not what you think!" she said, tears springing to her eyes. "It is not by choice that I see him! He can do things to hurt me and the people around me!"

"Like Ducky?"

"Yes," she sobbed, "like Ducky!" She fell to her knees crying and my heart broke for her. I gathered her in my arms and pulled to onto her bed. We sat there, her face pressed into my shoulder as she cried and I held her.

"Last night," she began with a sniffle, "Ducky walked me home after we two were released from the police station earlier this morning. I did not tell him that the entire bust had been an elaborate rouse to get me to talk. When we got here one of Ari's men was waiting for me on the stoop. I told Ducky to wait inside while we spoke, but he must have been listening from the window. He must have heard and figured out who I was!"

"And that's what he was planning to tell me," I surmised.

"Yes…yes, I do believe that was it."

"What did the guy say to you?"

"He asked me why I had been with the police that night and what I had told them. I insisted it had been nothing, that they had asked me about The Lily Pad serving alcohol. He did not believe me. He grabbed me and pushed me against the side of the building. Ducky was watching. He ran out to defend me."

"And then what?"

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Ari's man left, though not before giving me a warning. Ducky and I came back inside and I made him a cup of tea. I told him to forget everything he had seen and heard." She paused before meekly adding, "Then I sent him on his way."

"You think the guy attacked Ducky to keep him quiet?"

"I think they attacked Ducky to punish me. They knew he was a friend and that it would hurt me." That brought on another round of sobs and I pulled her closer. "He was hurt because of me…"

"You can't blame yourself."

She looked up at me with sorrowful eyes. I dabbed away the tears with the handkerchief I kept in my pocket. She closed her eyes as I ran the cotton fabric across the skin of her cheeks. "I cannot live like this," she whispered. "I cannot live having to worry about who he will hurt next."

"And you can't tell the cops because he'll find out."

"Yes. Ari always knows. He has eyes everywhere."

"But only on you. He isn't watching me."

She looked at me in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"He can't know when I speak with the cops, so I could tell them exactly where he's hiding!"

Ziva looked uncertain. "If he even suspects that I had anything to do with it…"

"He won't. They'll raid the place tomorrow night while you're at The Lily Pad. As far as they'll know, you were serenading the club's patrons when his hideout location was leaked. Just stay away from the police station for as long as possible."

"And how will you explain to Gibbs and DiNozzo how you know about the hideout?"

I shrugged. "I'm an investigator, aren't I? So I followed some clue that led to him. Trust me, they won't care where I got the information, just so long as they've got Ari behind bars at the end of the day."

I found myself engulfed in an airtight hug. "I do not think I can ever thank you enough!" she told me jubilantly, making my lack of oxygen well worth it. She pulled back, taking my face in her hands. "Thank you," she told me sincerely. "Thank you…you will be giving me my life back."

"It's the least I can do for a beautiful woman."

She smiled before leaning in and pressing her lips to mine. I expected it to be a mostly platonic peck on the lips, but after almost ten seconds she still hadn't pulled away. Daringly, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against my body. She deepened the kiss and I leaned back onto her bed with her body perched atop mine.

And to think, I was getting paid for this!


	9. Chapter 9

When I awoke the next morning the place beside me in the bed was empty. At some point during my slumber, Ziva had slipped away, leaving only a note in her place:

_I cannot tell you how hard it was to leave you this morning, sleeping there like an angel. Part of me wanted to crawl back under the covers, beneath your firm and warm grip. However, I thought it best that I spend the day out and about so that whoever Ari has following me will not see you leave and will not suspect me of anything. I likely will not see you until tomorrow, but I do hope this will not be the end of our relationship._

_Stay in bed as long as you would like. Just lock the door you your way out._

_Thank you so much!_

_XOXO Ziva_

The note had a lipstick-pressed kiss at the bottom and smelled of Ziva's perfume. I didn't feel at all bad about lying back down and taking it all in as I recalled the previous evening's events. After minutes and kissing, Ziva's lips had begun to trail down my neck as my hands explored her hair. Her fingers had nimbly unbuttoned my shirt and had slipped the suspenders I wore beneath it off my shoulders, leaving my torso only covered by my white undershirt. I had rolled over on the bed, pinning her down on it. Then, I had kissed her hard on the lips with all my might.

"Let me know if I'm moving too fast," I had muttered between kisses.

"Too fast?" she had asked with a gleeful laugh. "I have seen turtles move faster!" Her hands had brushed up by chest beneath my shirt. She had worked it off and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the side in a crumpled mess.

I had sat up, leaving her on her back and ran my hands up beneath her skirt. I had released one hose from the garter belt which held it and then the other, gently pulling each down her smooth, shapely legs. She had already been in the process of unbuttoning her dress and I had helped her along, pushing the fabric away from her shoulders. "You dames," I'd said as I went to work on her bustier, "you got so much clothing, it takes a fella an hour just to undress you."

"But is that not the fun part?" she had asked teasingly. "Unwrapping the present is always most enjoyable." She'd had a point there.

I'd finally tossed all of her undergarments to the side where my discarded clothing lay. Her hands had already been working the button and sipper of my trousers. I'd felt her fingers brush up against me and it had taken everything I had not to moan. I had willingly—gladly!—stepped out of them and kicked them to the side before bedding her. She had looked up at me with her deep brown eyes and I'd felt her body tremble beneath mine in sexual anticipation…

A loud honk from the street yanked me from my blissful recollection. I shot up and glanced out the open window. I couldn't be sure what time it was, but it was late enough in the day that if I didn't get to the office soon, Abby would go nuts with worry.

I slipped from the bed and dressed myself, tucking the note in my pocket before leaving the bedroom. In the kitchen I saw a still mildly warm pot of coffee on the percolator which Ziva had kindly left for me. I poured a cup and downed it black. As I left, I gently clicked the door locked.

As I walked down the street on my way to the police station, I noticed a slight bounce in my step which I usually didn't have. Could it be that I was about to hand the cops Ari Haswari's hide-out—a hide-out for which they had been searching for months—on a silver platter? Could it be that I had been the knight in shining armor to a rather ravishing damsel in distress? Or could it be that I had spent the night with said damsel in distress, holding her lithe body against my large frame, feeling her soft hair against my sensitive skin?

Likely, it was a combination of the three.

* * *

As Ziva had predicted, Gibbs and DiNozzo were somewhat suspicious when I approached them with the tip-off. "How could you possibly know this, McGee?" DiNozzo asked, eyeing me in both skepticism and jealousy. Obviously, he had wanted to be the one to crack the case on Haswari's hide-out. Gibbs didn't say anything as he was too busy preparing his weapon and gathering his men for an ambush. I suppose for him the how of the information didn't matter so much. "You follow Ziva to him?"

I had made the choice to leave Ziva's name out of this, even with the cops. It's not that I didn't trust them to keep her identity a secret, but you never knew what might spill out at the worst possible moment. I didn't dare put her life on the line and I'd found that the best way to keep a secret was to keep it to yourself.

"Not her," I told him without missing a beat. "I noticed a guy following her, spying on her. So I tailed him. He led me right to Haswari."

"So you think he was the one who left the note for her in the first place?"

I didn't think that, actually, but if it got the cops off my case, I'd tell them whatever they wanted to hear. "Probably. I doubt Haswari told him to do it, but maybe he was trying to get in good with the boss and crossed a line that shouldn't have been crossed."

DiNozzo didn't look too sure, but he didn't fight the point. It didn't matter how I'd stumbled upon the hide-out of a notorious gangster; the important thing was that they finally had Ari Haswari.

"I want every man available to help take down this bastard," Gibbs called out to the group of men. They were all too pleased to take down a man who had killed one of their own. "We don't know how many are holed-up there with him, so be on your guard. DiNozzo and I will lead and you all follow. Now go!"

The cops ran every which way, preparing for what I was certain would be the most exciting thing most of them did in their careers. Cars were parked outside to transport them to the hide-out. I hadn't a doubt that in less than an hour Ari would be brought back in handcuffs (assuming Gibbs didn't kill him first) and the newspapers would be reporting on the capture. In the mean time, I had places to be and another case still to solve. Something about Ziva's case was bugging me…something tugging at the back of my consciousness, like a dream you can almost remember.

"Hey, McGee!"

I turned around at the sound of the gruff voice. Gibbs was studying me with an impressed look (at least, it was the closest I'd ever seen him to looking impressed by anything). The other cops were still bustling about, but he stood stock still. "That's good work."

I smiled wryly, accepting the compliment with grace. "Thanks."

"You ever want a change of pace…"

"I know, I know," I said, holding up my hands and waving off the offer. "Thanks, but no thanks. The police work just doesn't give me the same thrills and perks." Namely, private customers like the exotic Miss David.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

I shrugged on my trench coat and was back on the street. Around me people ran about, running errands, working, sight-seeing. Of those of us on the street, only I knew that history was about to be made.

As I ambled down the road, I slipped my hand into the pocket of my trousers and felt the note Ziva had left for me. XOXO. She had even ended it with kisses and hugs…

I stopped in my tracks as it hit me, much to the chagrin of the harried businessmen behind me. I ignored their scowls as they walked around me, my mind elsewhere, on a case that was still unsolved; rather, it _had_ been unsolved…until now.


	10. Chapter 10

The bust made headlines in every paper across the east coast. A few lucky photographers had snapped winning shots of Gibbs and DiNozzo leading a manacled Ari Haswari into the police station. DiNozzo, ever the ham, was mugging for every shot, giving a winning smile that I'm sure some women would swoon over. Gibbs looked like Gibbs, which is to say he had on his best poker face, not revealing a thing. Though, to my keen observation, it looked as though there was a glint of satisfaction twinkling in his eyes. Ari looked calm and cool, as if he was certain this wouldn't stick, that he would soon be on the streets again, doing as he pleased.

I sincerely doubted that.

All of the articles credited the coppers with the arrest, though a couple of papers suspected Gibbs and company had had an inside tip from an anonymous source. Gibbs and DiNozzo quashed that theory, the former in an effort to protect both Ziva and myself and the latter, most likely, to claim all the glory for himself. I'd be lying if I said it didn't gnaw at me to know they were getting the fame and praise for my work, but at the same time I was glad to be kept out of it. After all, if even one of Haswari's men made the connection between me and Ziva it could spell trouble for us both. So I let them take the credit and sat back quietly. I had more important things to worry about anyway.

"McGee, Miss David is here."

Like her, for example.

I folded the paper and placed it aside. "Send her in, Abby."

The exotic beauty entered, wearing a gown similar to the one she'd donned during our first meeting. This time, though, there was no sultry act; she entered with a beaming smile and rushed to my desk, encapsulating me in a tight embrace.

"You darling man! You did it! You truly did it!" she exclaimed, punctuating each sentence with a kiss to either of my cheeks.

"Did you doubt me?"

"Of course not! I just cannot believe that it is done! And I have you to thank!" This time her kiss fell firmly against my lips. "I do not think I can ever repay you!"

"That won't be necessary," I told her as he extracted myself from her grasp. "I have more good news, too."

"Oh, yes?"

I nodded. "I think I've figured out who was behind the threatening letter. You may want to sit down for this one."

She obeyed. She looked worried…and yet relieved.

I removed the letter from my coat pocket and laid it out on the table in front of her, smoothing out all of the wrinkles. "Here we have a handwriting sample of the person threatening you."

Her eyes lowered.

I removed the threat letter she had given to me three days prior and placed it beside the other letter, the one she had left me the previous morning. "Seems the handwritings here match, don't they?" She said nothing. "Now what are the odds of that?"

"So you figured it out," she said with a wry smile. "I suppose leaving you a note was a mistake on my part."

"It wasn't just the note. I knew that only an employee of The Lily Pad would be able to get to your dressing room, which limited my number of suspects considerably. Most of them seemed to like you, so why would any of them want to threaten you? The note was just the clincher."

"I was going to tell you," she insisted. "I was going to tell you everything after…"

"After Haswari was arrested?" I asked, completing her thought. She nodded sheepishly. "So that's what this was all about. You came here with a phony case for me so I could find out your half-brother's hide out. If they questioned why you'd been speaking with a P.I., you could claim I was working a case for you, investigating who wanted you dead. After all, lots of people had overheard me asking about you, about who might be holding a grudge, so why should they think you were lying?" My tone was haughty and curt.

"I just needed it done with," she said in a soft tone. "I had no other choice…"

I felt a twinge of anger bubble inside of me. "So all of the flirting and come-ons…it was all an act. Everything done and said…"

"No!" she said forcefully. Her hand reached out and grasped mine. "No, it was not an act. Yes, I lied to you and got you to do my dirty work for me, I admit it. But I had no need to go beyond that. I was paying you and that should have been enough incentive for you to take my case, yes? The rest…the other night…" She cut off her thought as her face flushed. "It was very much real, Timothy."

I wanted to believe her, but I wasn't quite yet swayed. "Why didn't you just tell me from the beginning what you needed me to do? I gladly would have helped you, no matter what the risk."

She shook her head. "I needed you to believe that you were investigating a threat against my life. If you believed it, then they too would believe it."

"So you pointed to a name in the directory and just came here?"

She looked up at me, hurt reading across her face. "Is that what you think? That I simply chose the first investigator I found?" She leaned over my desk towards me. The neckline of her dress dipped down a bit. I'm not too proud to admit I sneaked a peek. "Timothy, I knew I would need the best for this. I could not have some bumbling detective who could not even find his way out of a cardboard box; I needed someone I could trust to get the job done. And so I chose you."

Her last words made my heart flutter more than I'd like to admit. She chose me. She'd had a choice and had chosen me.

Ziva's hands came up and took my face in their grasp. I didn't pull away. "I wanted for this to be over, I prayed for it to end. I was waiting to tell you."

"And now?" I asked. "Now that it's over, now that you've told me."

She grinned slyly. "Now, I believe it is time for your payment."

Her slim legs fell to either side of my body as she straddled my lap. Her arms encircled my neck. I could smell her sweet perfume as it wafted through my nostrils. And when her lips met mine…I was putty in her hands.

So what if Gibbs and DiNozzo got the credit after I'd done all the work. In the end, I'd gotten the real prize.

* * *

**A big THANK YOU to all of my readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoyed the story!**


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